


The Shake Up

by amathela



Series: Further Adventures At WizTech [2]
Category: Wizards of Waverly Place
Genre: F/M, Humor, Incest, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-09
Updated: 2009-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's still something going on with Professor Dinklemeyer, and Alex is determined to get to the bottom of it.  Justin still isn't sure he's on board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shake Up

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to episode _1:14 - Wizard School (Part Two)._

"So," Alex says, and slides onto the seat across the table from Justin, like it's no big deal. Which it maybe isn't, and it definitely shouldn't be, but -

They've had classes together since then. Two and a half days' worth, in fact. But this is the first time they've actually, directly spoken to one another since ...

Sincehehadsexwithhissisterinacloset.

So. Maybe it's kind of a big deal.

"So?" he asks, and he tries not to stare at her (Two and a half days ago, he had his hands -), but that mostly means he ends up darting his gaze back and forth between his lunch and a spot just over Alex's shoulder. So much for playing it cool.

"We still need to talk about this," she says, and, um, okay. He probably should have been expecting this.

And he's not really sure whether to be terrified or relieved, but either way, Alex is probably right.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asks.

"Professor Dinklemeyer," she says with a sigh, like he should already be caught up. And like there's nothing else they could possibly need to talk about, which.

Is, you know, not entirely true.

"Professor Dinklemeyer?" he repeats, and they're not talking about _that_, so maybe some of the tension in his stomach should be letting up, but it isn't. And - okay, as scary as it is, he wants to talk about that. Not because he has any idea how he feels about it (like that hasn't been keeping him up at night), or what he would even say, but this is kind of a big deal. And maybe they should acknowledge it, or at least decide where they stand.

(Like, should he even look at her? Avert his eyes? Apologise? Is he allowed to touch her? Are they, like, dating now?)

"Yeah," she says. She's looking at him like he's an idiot (so, like she always does), and if he hadn't been over the encounter a thousand times in his head since it happened, he'd almost be convinced he'd made it up. "I told you, I don't trust him."

Right, she told him. In the closet.

"Alex," he says (and he can't even say her name any more without thinking about it), "I told you -"

In the closet.

"- Professor Dinklemeyer isn't evil."

Alex scoffs, and of course she doesn't believe him. Not even something this big is likely to change that.

"Yeah, whatever," she says, leaning forward slightly, and he isn't - definitely isn't, just for the record - looking down her top. At all.

Then she leans forward a little more, and - seriously, is she doing this on purpose?

She must be doing this on purpose, he decides. Either that, or he really did imagine it.

(His imagination has never been that good. Or quite that twisted.)

"But it's okay," she says, and Justin can feel his entire body tense. "Because I have a plan."

"A plan?" he echoes.

"To expose him."

Yeah, so this can't possibly end well.

-

"Nice boxers."

Justin turns around hurriedly, and if he had something to cover himself with, he would. Not that it probably matters; it's not like Alex hasn't seen him like this before (they share a bathroom, after all), but, well, that's not really the point.

Anyway, it should hardly be surprising if he feels self-conscious around her now.

"Are those ..." She steps forward, leaning down, leaning _closer_, and oh, god, he is not getting turned on by this. Because that would be bad. (They aren't even alone.) "Ewoks?"

"Wookiees," he says, and then, because she's still down there, "Alex!"

"Right," she says, and straightens up. Slowly, and he doesn't miss the way she's smiling. "Anyway."

"What are you doing in here?" Justin asks, and looks around, lowering his voice. "This is the boys' dorm."

"I know," Alex says, and she looks around, too, but not like she's embarrassed. And then she actually _waves_ at Hugh.

Who waves back.

"You can't be in here," he says, and she shrugs.

"Hugh doesn't mind. Do you, Hugh?"

"As long as you don't plan on staying here," Hugh says. "There's no room in my bed."

Of course there isn't. It's a child size.

"That's all right," Alex says, and elbows Justin in the ribs. He could swear she winks, too.

Subtle.

"Well, I do mind," Justin says, and tries to pretend he can't feel his entire face heating up. "Why are you even here?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," she says, and if it wasn't there before, it is now. (But at least she's acknowledging it, maybe? He can't help feeling like it shouldn't be this complicated.) "It's part of the plan, remember?"

"Plan," he repeats slowly. "What plan?"

Alex rolls her eyes. "The plan to expose Professor Dinklemeyer. Weren't you even listening?"

Not really, no.

"Alex," he says, and he's trying to be patient, but she's still standing a little too close for comfort, and he's wearing nothing but his underwear. "We're not going to -"

"Shut up and put some clothes on," she says, and now she moves away, tossing a shirt at him as she makes herself comfortable on his bed. (Okay, not thinking about that.) "You can tell me all about how this is a bad idea later."

-

"This is a bad idea," he says, later.

"Do you have a better one?" Alex asks, and doesn't bother waiting for an answer. Instead, she takes the lead, winding her way back out of the dorm and into the corridor.

Of course he doesn't have a better plan; if it were up to him, they wouldn't be doing this in the first place. Even if Alex was right about Professor Evilini (and it's not his fault he didn't believe her; really, what were the odds?), she's wrong about this, and sneaking out after bed time to spy on a teacher is almost guaranteed to end badly for them.

Anyway, Professor Dinklemeyer is not -

"Evil," a voice say somewhere to their right, and Justin freezes. Alex does the same in front of him, and then she's tugging him forward, shoving him into a narrow, shadowy alcove.

Like they haven't already gotten into enough trouble with confined spaces.

She's still holding his hand, even though it's probably all sweaty and gross (and it's not like he's nervous or anything, he just has enormous glands), and his other hand moves almost instinctively to her waist. And then she kind of arches into him a little, and he drops it hurriedly.

"It's sheer elegance in its simplicity," the voice says again, and Justin recognises it, now, as belonging to Jerko Phoenix.

Great. This is just what they need.

Justin angles his body so he can see into the corridor, which has the unfortunate side effect of pressing him closer to Alex. (Definitely unfortunate. And completely accidental.) He can see two figures, but he doesn't recognise the other student, and he tells himself that Wiz Tech is a big school, that Alex is wrong, the he does have friends.

Jerko turns, making Justin shrink back into the shadows, and he seems to consider something. "The name is a little obvious, though. The Tower of Evil?"

Justin tenses a little, and he grips Alex's hand tighter.

"Anyway, I don't suppose it matters. It's not like ..."

Justin doesn't catch the rest of the sentence, Jerko and his accomplice already moving off further down the corridor, and he waits until he's certain they're out of earshot before he lets go of Alex's hand, stepping out of the alcove.

"Do you think -" Alex starts, and he fixes her with a glare.

"He's not evil," he says, to forestall the inevitable accusation. "He's just ... a jerk."

"But he wears an eye patch," she says, and he raises an eyebrow. "That just screams evil."

He almost tells her that nobody would be that obvious, but then he remembers Professor Evilini. So maybe she kind of has a point.

Still, it isn't likely to happen twice.

"Not everyone around here is evil," he says, and she gives him her best exasperated look, the one he's more than familiar with. He doesn't know how she can do this, switch from holding hands in darkened corners to treating him like ... well, like her brother, in less than the blink of an eye.

He envies her for it, a little. He wishes he could be so nonchalant.

"Fine," she says. "But I'm right about Professor Dinklemeyer."

"You're not -"

"Come on," she says, cutting him off, and taking his hand again.

Glands. Totally normal. He isn't nervous.

"He's got to be around here somewhere. We're just going to have to keep looking."

"Have you considered looking in his room?" Justin asks. It's not really that late, and he thinks there's probably an even chance that Professor Dinklemeyer would still be in his office, but, well. Maybe he's not ready to bring that up just yet.

"Ooh, good idea," Alex says, and he mentally smacks himself on the head. Bad idea. The last thing he should be doing is encouraging her.

"I didn't mean -" he says, but it's already too late. Anyway, if he's being honest with himself, he probably did mean it; for better or for worse (probably for worse), he's in this now, and ...

Well, maybe he doesn't hate this. Being alone. With Alex.

(Is that a bad thing? He's pretty sure if she would just freak out about it a little, he'd feel a lot better about all of this.)

He's still trying to work up the courage to maybe say something (okay, so it's probably never going to happen, but sometimes a little self-deception is necessary) when Alex stops short, and he stops, too, still holding her hand.

(That's just what people do, right? It doesn't necessarily have to be romantic.)

"What?" he asks, and Alex shushes him. So. Probably not romantic.

She gestures around them, and he realises, belatedly, that they're already inside the professors' quarters. So, maybe he should be paying a little more attention.

And then she's pulling him to the side again, pushing him up against the wall, and is she -

A second later, he hears footsteps.

Well, okay then.

"That's Professor Crumbs," Alex whispers, too close in his ear (he can feel her breath on his neck, and he doesn't think the puff of air is all that's giving him goosebumps). Justin resist the urge to put his hand over her mouth, because, well, that's how everything started last time, and this probably isn't the time or the place for a repeat of that.

(Not that he wants a repeat. Or, well. Not that he'd -

Thinking about this really isn't doing him any favours.)

Instead, he settles for a stern look, and a whispered, "I know."

"He was in Professor Dinklemeyer's room."

"So?" He probably shouldn't ask. He's not sure he wants to hear it.

"So maybe they were talking about that contract thing."

Right. The contract. That seems like the least important thing that happened while they were in the closet.

Only, well, maybe not for Alex.

(Bitter? Not at all. It's not like it's been keeping him up. Every. Single. Night.)

"You don't even know what the contract was," he says.

"Exactly," Alex says, like that makes any sense. "Plus, he's got cookies."

He refrains from pointing out that Professor Crumbs always has cookies. Seriously, what is with these people and their names? "So?"

"So Professor Dinklemeyer probably bribed him. Or distracted him."

"So he wouldn't notice the contract he's signing is -"

He shivers.

"- designed to drain his powers?"

He meant it to be sarcastic.

"Exactly," Alex says.

"Alex, that's -"

And then he hears another set of footprints, and he doesn't need Alex's hand over his mouth, this time, to tell him to shut up.

She does it anyway.

"Professor Hale," Professor Crumbs says. "I was just ... um, coming from my office."

Justin exchanges a look with Alex. Okay, he'll grant her that one; Professor Crumbs is obviously lying about something.

"You and me both," Professor Hale says, his voice, low and gruff, a perfect fit for his body. In any other universe, Justin would have him pegged as a gym teacher. "I still have a dozen papers to mark before tomorrow."

"Just do what I used to do," Professor Crumbs says, and even though Justin can see him lean in closer, his voice still carries. "Give them all B's."

Justin straightens, indignant. They can't do that! He worked for four days straight on his paper, and he's willing to bet that Alex didn't put any thought into hers at all.

"Already planning on it," Professor Hale says, and all that's keeping Justin from marching out there and confronting him is Alex's hand on his elbow, oddly calming, and the way her thumb is kind of tracing circles on his skin.

He waits, instead, until Professor Hale and Professor Crumbs are both gone, and turns to her.

"He can't do that," he says, careful to keep his voice low. They're still hanging around somewhere they shouldn't be, after all. "This is outrageous. We have to do something about this."

"Justin," Alex says, and of course she isn't concerned. This has probably just bumped her grade up exponentially.

This is going to destroy the curve.

"We kind of have more important things to worry about right now," she says, like she's actually serious about this whole evil contract thing. Even in his head, it sounds ridiculous.

"More important than our education?" he asks, and he shouldn't have bothered.

"Duh."

"Maybe for you it is, but -"

"Justin," she says, and he doesn't know how, but somehow she's standing even closer to him. She's trying to distract him, he knows, but it's a surprisingly effective technique. (Or, well, maybe it's not that surprising.) "Focus."

Yeah, that's so not happening.

"Um," he says, and before he can think about it too much (or at all), he reaches for her, settling his hand above her hip. It probably shouldn't have the effect it does, but most of the tension he's stored up seems to drain away, and he can breathe properly for the first time in what feels like an eternity. "Okay."

Right now, he's pretty sure he'd agree to just about anything.

"Great," Alex says. "Come on, let's see if Professor Dinklemeyer's in his room."

As it turns out, he isn't, and Alex shoots Justin a triumphant look, like this somehow proves her whole theory. Which it so doesn't.

Okay, it is a little suspicious. But he's sure, even if she isn't, that there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.

Alex can't possibly be right twice in a row.

-

When the student next to him hands him the note, Justin opens it carefully, mindful of what happened the last time Alex passed him notes in class. This time, though, nothing explodes, and he's left looking down at a single word scrawled on a piece of paper.

_Evil._

Justin scrunches up the paper, and returns his attention to Professor Dinklemeyer. Or at least, he tries to. But, as if Alex hadn't already taken over more than her fair share of his brain, all he can think about now is her ridiculous theory.

And the way that Professor Dinklemeyer's robes are just a little bit ... blacker than everyone else's.

And the way that his hair is all greasy and stringy, which doesn't do much to help him look trustworthy.

And the way that, okay, his laugh is kind of evil sounding.

That still doesn't mean he's ready to concede her point.

So he copies down notes, and doesn't look around, until there's another tap on his arm.

_Sneak out again tonight? We need more proof._

_More proof than none?_ he writes underneath it, before he can think about what he's doing. He's never actually passed notes in class before, but Alex has always had a way of getting him to do things he never thought he would.

(Yeah, that much is fairly obvious.)

_Don't be so uptight,_ he reads a minute later, and looks around furtively before answering.

_It's a bad plan._

He doesn't look back at Alex, as if ignoring her is enough to make her go away. Professor Dinklemeyer drones on as Justin tries to pay attention, and a few minutes pass before he gets another note.

_I'll make it worth your while._

Justin barely finishes reading it before he starts coughing uncontrollably, and he hurriedly slips the note into his textbook. It's bad enough to risk getting caught passing notes; no way does he want anyone actually reading that.

"Justin Russo," Professor Dinklemeyer says, turning around. His expression is stern, unimpressed, like Justin's complete inability to breathe right now is nothing more than a mild inconvenience. "Perhaps you'd care to give us the answer?"

Justin looks up at the board, trying to get his breathing back under control. And freezes.

This is Alex's fault, all of it.

"Um," he says, and glances down at his notes, his mind still blank. He studied for this yesterday, before Alex and her stupid plan, he _knows_ this. "Mix the ingredients in the reverse order?"

"Very good," Professor Dinklemeyer says, as if he's saying, _you idiot._ Justin looks around, smiling triumphantly at Alex, and when he looks back, there's another note sitting on his desk.

_I'm not wearing a bra._

Oh, god.

Yeah, there's no way he's learning anything else today.

-

"Justin," Alex says, drawing out his name in a way he's pretty sure only she can.

He doesn't look up, his eyes scrolling over the same line he's already read half a dozen times. Not that it does much good; he probably wouldn't be able to recall what it said if his life were depending on it.

Not that it has anything to do with the way Alex is perched on the edge of his desk, her robes riding up, or the way the skirt she's wearing is kind of ridiculously short.

"We need to get to the bottom of this," she says, leaning in a little closer. He wants to tell her that she doesn't have to bother, that he's already just about as distracted as he can get, but he's pretty sure that would be letting her win. So he says nothing, and tries to pretend that he isn't staring, that he's still looking at his textbook.

"Get to the bottom of what?" he asks after a minute, and slides the textbook away in defeat. He can't even fool himself.

"What Professor Dinklemeyer's up to," she says, smiling now that she has his full attention. As if she didn't already. "The future of Wiz Tech could depend on it."

If that's true, he thinks, they're all doomed.

"Alex," he says, and leans back in his chair. It doesn't do much to put more distance between them, but right now, every little bit counts. "He isn't up to anything. I keep telling you -"

"He's not evil, respect authority figures, blah blah blah," she says, in a fairly accurate - if dismissive - summation of his arguments so far. "You're wrong."

"Do you ever actually listen to people who disagree with you, or do you just argue for the sake of it?"

"A little of both," she says, and slides closer, until the edge of her skirt brushes against the back of his palm. "But this time, I'm right."

"You can't prove that," he says, and tries really, really hard to keep his hand perfectly still.

He mostly succeeds.

"Not yet," she says, and if she's bothered by him touching her, she doesn't look it. "Which is why we need to find out what he's up to."

And now they're back around to the beginning. This argument, he thinks, probably isn't going anywhere.

And it's not like Alex is going to give in.

"If I agree to help you," he says, and stresses the 'if.' Not that Alex seems to notice. "Will you go away and let me concentrate? I need to study."

"Am I distracting you?" she asks, and he's seen her flirt with enough guys (always in front of him, not that he cares) to know that's what she's doing now. Hair flip, pout, the whole works.

Under normal circumstances, it's something he'd tease her about, but these really aren't normal circumstances.

"Yes," he says, because maybe this whole conversation will go a lot faster if he just lets her win.

She shifts, and his fingers slip beneath the hem of her skirt. Totally unintentionally.

For a minute, there's silence, and Justin stays perfectly still.

And then Alex asks, "Are you sure you want me to stop?"

No. He isn't sure, at all.

"I need to study," he says again, and it's close enough to an answer. (Not the right one, maybe, but he's a little terrified of contemplating the alternative. Again.)

"Fine," she says, and stands up. He tells himself he doesn't miss the contact. "You can study. Tonight. But we're doing this tomorrow."

He has no idea what 'this' is, and he doesn't ask.

"Fine," he says, and doesn't look back at his notes until she's out of sight.

-

"Harry Hale's spell archery," Professor Hale says, in answer to a question that nobody asked. Namely, why they're outside, and why there are two targets set up at one end of the clear, grassy area.

(Ordinarily, he'd call it a sporting field, but twelve ball is the closest thing to a sport Justin has seen since they got to Wiz Tech.)

"The rules are simple," Professor Hale says. "The class will be split up into two teams. One of those teams will be offense, and one will be defense. In teams, you'll take turns trying to hit your targets, which are split up into smaller target areas. For the offensive team, red is a critical hit, worth ten points; yellow is a solid hit, worth five points; green is a minor hit, worth two points; and blue is a glancing hit, worth one point. For the defensive team, every ..."

There's more, but even Justin tunes out by the time Professor Hale gets to counter hits, reverse damage, self-damage, and the dozen other sub-regulations that make up what he's guessing is a completely invented game. He isn't really sure what's supposed to be simple about any of it, and he'd probably have a lot easier time following it if Harry Hale's spell archery didn't sound so much like gym class, only with magic.

"Any questions?" Professor Hale asks, and Justin looks around nervously. The rest of the class appears to be doing the same.

Except Alex, who has her hand raised.

"I have a question," she says.

On the bright side, if her question takes long enough to answer, Justin thinks there's a distinct possibility that the class will be over before they actually have to start playing the game.

"Why aren't we just learning combat spells?" she asks.

"Because combat spells are dangerous," Professor Hale says, looking momentarily serious. "It's important to be able to practice them in a non-threatening environment before you can use them for real. Which is the reason I invented Harry Hale's spell archery."

"Boring," Alex mutters, but at least she does it quietly.

Justin grabs her arm and pulls her further away from Professor Hale, just in case.

"Harry Hale's spell archery," she says, her voice dismissive, like she feels the same way about their combat spells class that he does about her crazy evil contract idea. "I never would have guessed he invented it."

"Come on," Justin says, and he can't believe he's about to say this, but - "It could be fun."

Judging from Alex's look, she doesn't believe it any more than he does.

"We shouldn't be wasting time on this," she says, gesturing broadly, as if by 'this,' she means class in general. "We should be investigating Professor Dinklemeyer. What if he's drained Professor Crumbs' powers already?"

Justin refrains from pointing out that draining Professor Crumbs' powers was entirely her idea, and that, even if Professor Dinklemeyer is evil - which he still doesn't believe, just for the record - that's hardly likely to be his plan.

Instead, he says, "Then we would have heard about it by now."

"I still think we should be -" she says, and stops suddenly when Professor Hale approaches them.

"Justin," he says. "Alex. You're on separate teams."

Of course they are.

And suddenly, Alex doesn't look so bored any more.

"Oh," she says to Justin, moving over to join Hugh and the rest of her team. "You're going down."

"Yeah, well not as much as -" Justin flounders for a second. "You're going down."

So, okay, it's not a great comeback. But instead of teasing him about it, Alex winks.

Justin swallows, hard, and tears his gaze away from her before he does something incredibly stupid.

"I thought so," she says, and he isn't even sure, any more, what she's teasing him about.

It probably doesn't matter.

Watching Harry Hale's spell archery really isn't any more enlightening then hearing about Harry Hale's spell archery, and by the time it's Justin's turn, he still has no idea what he's supposed to be doing.

"Um," he says, turning to one of his teammates. "What team are we on?"

"Defense," the girl says.

Which means Alex is offense. He should have guessed.

"So I ..." He takes a wild guess. "Try to hit our target?"

"Yes," she says, simply.

And, okay, maybe this game isn't quite as complicated as it sounds.

He's almost convinced himself he's ready when -

"Justin," Alex calls, and he looks over.

Big mistake.

"Good luck," she says, and he's probably the only one who notices the way her hand slides up her thigh, toying with the hem of her skirt. (At least, he'd better be the only one who notices.) And then she laughs, and he knows there's no way he's hitting the target.

He doesn't.

"Better luck next time," Professor Hale says, and slings a companionable arm around Justin's shoulder in the manner of gym teachers the world over. "Try focusing a little more, and keep your elbow tucked in, okay?"

"Okay," Justin says, because there's no way he's explaining that his lack of focus had nothing to do with his elbow.

"Good," Professor Hale says, and - "Some people are just naturals, you know? Like your sister."

Wait, Alex can't possibly be -

Justin glances over, and as if one cue, Alex hits her team's target square in the red zone. Which he only dimly remembers as being a good thing.

So, now Alex is being held up as a model of academic achievement, and he's getting a B on his paper because some professors would rather spend all weekend inventing stupid games than marking homework. This is just great.

Then Alex turns around, and smiles at him - just at him, he's pretty sure - and he's a little less angry.

"I'll try harder," he assures Professor Hale, and that seems to be good enough.

"Need me to give you some pointers?" Alex asks a minute later, grabbing his arm and pressing a little closer to him than she should probably be doing in public. Or at all.

"Do I need them?" he asks, looking her up and down, and he could swear she actually starts blushing.

On his next turn, he hits the target.

Almost.

Alex raises her eyebrows, like it's a challenge, and on her next turn, she hits the green zone. Which is still better than he's doing, but he thinks - and it makes him a little happier than he probably should - that he may have rattled her, a little.

So, maybe she's not just playing him. Which is good to know.

It's almost his turn again when Alex approaches him, dragging him away from the class.

"We should sneak away," she says, and it's a lot harder than it should be to come up with all the reasons why that's a bad idea when her hand is resting low on his chest. "While everyone's distracted. We still need to find out what Professor Dinklemeyer's -"

"Um, Alex," Justin says, interrupting her. She shoots him an impatient look, and he turns her to face the other side of the field, where Professor Crumbs and Professor Dinklemeyer are coming towards them. "I don't think that's necessary."

"Uh oh," Alex says, but Justin's far more worried about what Alex is planning to do than about Professor Dinklemeyer. She still has her wand out, and she points it at Professor Dinklemeyer, like she's preparing for a fight. "You distract him, I'll -"

"We won't do anything," Justin says, suddenly seeing all the ways this could possibly go wrong. "Just wait and see why they're here, okay?"

Alex lowers her wand a little, but it isn't much comfort.

"If I could have everyone's attention, please," Professor Crumbs says, and Justin feels Alex tense up beside him. "I have an announcement to make. Professor Dinklemeyer -"

And that's when it all goes to hell.

Professor Crumbs holds up, of all things, a contract, and Alex raises her wand, pointing it squarely at Professor Dinklemeyer. And then a million things seem to happen at once - Professor Crumbs taking out a pen, ready to sign the contract; Professor Dinklemeyer stepping closer to watch; Alex waving her wand and muttering something under her breath.

And Hugh, stepping in between them all to take his turn at Harry Hale's spell archery.

Justin grabs Alex at the same time as she releases the spell, and they both go tumbling to the side. Everything else is kind of a blur, half seen out of the corner of his eye, but Justin sees Professor Dinklemeyer step forward, as if to shield Professor Crumbs, and Hugh, in the middle of his own spell, get hit by Alex's.

Justin closes his eyes, as if that's enough to stop the inevitable chaos, and feels Alex wrench herself away from him. A minute later, he dares to look up, and she's standing in the middle of a disaster zone.

Okay, so maybe that's putting it a little harshly. He's seen her do worse, after all. But half the class is on the ground, hit by the still-ricocheting spell Hugh probably intended for his team's target, Hugh himself is glowing (Justin doesn't even want to know what spell Alex used), Professor Hale is doing his best to tame the runaway magic, and Professor Crumbs - the only person, aside from Alex, who appears to be completely unaffected - is holding the contract aloft, triumphant.

"No," Alex yells. A little too late, Justin thinks.

"Professor Dinklemeyer is now an official, permanent member of Wiz Tech staff -" Professor Crumbs says, and then, looking around them, falls silent. "Would anyone care to enlighten me as to what just happened?"

His gaze falls squarely on Alex.

"Alex Russo?"

"I thought ..." she says, and looks at Justin, like he's supposed to bail her out.

Usually, he'd be happy to watch her squirm. But, well, maybe these are extenuating circumstances.

"I tripped her," he says, and maybe it's not a great excuse, but he doesn't have Alex's talent for lying at the drop of a hat. "It was an accident."

"Well," Professor Crumbs says. "Professor Dinklemeyer, perhaps -"

"I'll see the students to the infirmary," Professor Dinklemeyer says.

Justin looks meaningfully at Alex, who avoids his gaze.

"So," Justin says, nodding at the piece of paper Professor Crumbs still holds. "Just so we're clear, that's ..."

"Professor Dinklemeyer's employment contract," Professor Crumbs says.

Ha! Justin knew he wasn't evil.

Well, he mostly knew.

"And you still have your powers, right?"

"What kind of question is that?" Professor Crumbs asks, but he waves his wand anyway, and blue sparks shoot from it.

This time, when Justin glances at Alex, she looks - guilty, almost.

"Are you happy now?" he asks, and her eyes are shining a little brighter than usual. Which, he didn't mean to rub it in, honestly; he just needs to make sure this is all over.

"Thrilled," she says flatly, and he takes her hand.

"Come on. Let's go see if Hugh is all right."

-

Hugh, it turns out, is fine.

As is everyone else who was affected by the spells, and Justin feels Alex relax beside him, though she'd probably die before admitting she actually felt relieved.

(It's okay. He's keeping enough secrets; he can keep one more.)

"I feel great," Hugh assures them, while Alex pretends that she didn't rush to his bedside. "I'm just glowing, is all."

"Yeah," Justin says, and turns to Alex. "About that. What spell did you use, anyway?"

She shrugs. "It's supposed to reveal a person's character."

Well. That's a little more sensible than he would have expected, given Alex's behaviour over the past week. Or ever.

"So Hugh's character is ..." Justin frowns. "Glowing?"

"It kind of tingles, too," Hugh pipes in, and, well. As long as he's okay, Justin guesses.

He waits to pull Alex aside until they've reached the boys' dorm, which is, thanks to Alex, completely empty. He grabs her hand, and she looks up at him like she's expecting him to start yelling. Which, until that moment, he was.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, "It's okay."

She looks at him, suspicious, like she's waiting for the 'but.' "It is?"

And then she runs the fingers of her free hand up inside his shirt, and whatever intention he still had of lecturing her vanishes entirely.

Well, except for -

"I told you he wasn't evil," he says, and she rolls her eyes.

"Fine. I was wrong. Whatever."

"Wait -" Alex's hand is still moving, and it's making it more than a little difficult to concentrate. "Did you just admit you were wrong?"

"I can admit it," she says, but she's pouting a little. "Sometimes. When it happens. Which is almost never."

He doesn't want to concede the point, but Alex's hand is moving down, now, instead of up, her fingers tangling in his belt, and suddenly it feels like his pants are way too small.

"Wait," he says, and her hand stills, almost. "Alex, what are we -"

"You don't want this?" she asks, and it's half teasing, half sincere.

He's probably going to hell for this, but he does. He really, really does.

"That's not -" he starts, and tries to regroup. "Do you you want this?"

When she answers him, it's so low that he almost doesn't hear.

"Yes."

"This is a bad idea," he says, but the words are mostly for show, now; he's pressing closer into her, pushing her towards the bed, one hand already trailing up her thigh.

"All the good ones are," Alex says, and then she's kissing him, and he thinks, for once, she might actually have a point.

"We shouldn't do this here."

"We're alone," she says, like that's enough, and the way her hands are moving, now, he thinks it is. "Relax. For once."

That probably isn't going to happen, he thinks, but maybe relaxing isn't the most important thing right now.

"Someone could -"

"Shut up," Alex says, breaking the kiss long enough to tug his shirt up over his head, and pushes him back onto the bed.

So he shuts up, and then she's kissing him, again, her fingers working at his belt, and he grips her tightly, his fingers digging into her hips, like he's holding on for dear life. Which, with Alex, he mostly is. She leans back, adjusting her position so she's straddling him, and it turns out she was serious about not wearing a bra.

Like, for the entire week.

"Alex," he says, but he thinks it's probably only in his head, because his vocal cords don't really seem to be cooperating. And because Alex doesn't tell him to shut up again, which he thinks she probably would.

Then he moves his hands lower, bunching up her skirt, sliding beneath the fabric of her underwear, and he thinks he's okay with not speaking.

"So," she says, and there's a glint in her eyes that would usually terrify him. Right now, he's not exactly sure what it makes him feel. "You said something about me going down?"

So maybe there are perks to Alex sending half the student body to the infirmary, after all.


End file.
